I Was Not Born to Look Like A Piece Of Fruit!
I want to talk about food today, the kind of food that people like me, who can gain five pounds breathing the air doing a drive by of Kentucky Fried chicken, should never think about … let alone long enough to talk about them with their fingers.
I don’t want any repercussions from the healthy people out there who only eat whole grains and fresh vegetables and low fat and hardly any meat. I KNOW all about that kind of eating. Not from experience, of course, but I know about it just the same. It’s not a guarantee they will live long, productive and happy lives. I see a lot of obituaries of young, healthy looking physically fit people who probably followed the manual on how to take care of their body.
But, really … how sad would it be to reach the other side and find out this was your only opportunity … ever … to eat a hot fudge sundae made of double chocolate brownie and caramel cashew ice cream? What if you missed your only chance at sweet & sour pork, or bread sticks at the Pizza Factory, or a big steaming plate of Mexican food that barely fits on the oval platter it is served on. Are you seeing what I mean here? It could be that if you didn’t do those things, whether you spent your life shoveling coal in hell or floating on clouds in heaven you would forever regret it and yearn for that one last mouthwatering bite.
I am on the 2nd week of being on the food “wagon” … if you know what I mean. I’m not allowed to eat any of those things until my pear shaped body (of which the thickest part of the pear is not towards the top) changes back to the shape nature meant it to be … which as I recall doesn’t really resemble a piece of fruit so much as say … a hot, fresh loaf of Italian bread.
In my Mother’s day they used numbers instead of fruit to describe their body shapes. A figure “8″ was supposed to be the ideal … that shape which every one strived to attain … and not that hard to achieve if you consider the various sizes you can write the letter 8. Unfortunately, about the time I was in high school and well on my way to a happy shape 8 of my own, along comes Twiggy with no shape at all. What do you do with the newly found rounded top and bottom God gave you when all of a sudden the new look is a stick with sunken cheeks and bulging eyeballs. And … so it goes … throughout history: breasts are in, breasts are out, butts are in, buts are out, gaunt cheeks in, gaunt cheeks out. Who’s the jerk who gets to call these shots, is what I want to know! Why doesn’t he just make up his cotton picking mind so people can get on with their lives!
Okay, maybe I’m just a little grouchy because I have so recently banned the crunchy munchies I so enjoy snacking on as I sit leisurely at the computer reading the news and catching up on my blog and emails. I mean, what harm is there in say an hour of mindless munching? Nothing, I suppose, if you don’t want your butt to look uncannily like the bottom of a fat, over ripe pear. IT’S NOT FAIR CRUEL WORLD! I wasn’t born to look like a piece of fruit forever!
